


one above and one below

by trepan



Category: Jennifer's Body (2009)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepan/pseuds/trepan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's boring being dead.</p><p>It's okay for the first part, when she's still so full of rage and hurt that her mind is one big X. That just fuels her determination to hold really, really still while her mother sobs and the police arrive to arrest Needy.</p><p>She does pose a little, though. They're going to document this, after all. Maybe they'll put her crime scene on the news. Or in the yearbook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one above and one below

It's boring being dead.

It's okay for the first part, when she's still so full of rage and hurt that her mind is one big _X_. That just fuels her determination to hold really, really still while her mother sobs and the police arrive to arrest Needy.

She does pose a little, though. They're going to document this, after all. Maybe they'll put her crime scene on the news. Or in the yearbook.

And the next part is okay, too, when someone stitches her up and does her makeup and dresses her in her Snowflake Queen gear, complete with rhinestone tiara. Like when can you ever wear a tiara, if not to your own funeral? Chasity shows up and leads the junior and senior class choruses in one more  _fucking_ rendition of "Through The Trees," this time mashed up with "Big Girls Don't Cry." Jennifer almost stops being dead so she can commit a more intentional suicide in front of the entire town of Devil's Kettle. 

She takes a few deep pranayama breaths. In one nostril. Out the other. Hands-free, bitch. Buddha wishes.

Heather Christensen's left eye flickers toward the coffin midway through belting out, "I'm gonna miss U like a child misses their blanket." 

Somewhere in the audience, Jennifer can hear her mother wail. 

People come and stare in at her and talk to her. Someone wheels her grandmother away and Jennifer can smell Roman's Skoal breath heading her way. She flips up her Snowflake Queen dress. They put her in her cherry-print underwear in some sort of fit of wishful thinking. 

She can see Roman's face blurrily above her. He lets out a sob when he sees her. After a minute, he pulls her dress back down. 

 _One more Basic Instinct moment for old fucks' sake_ , Jennifer thinks at him.  _So you'll remember what Mt. Everest looked like when_ _you're going spelunking in Goth #2._

It's less good when they close the coffin on her and she can hear the dirt thumping dully onto the roof. She's not, like, scared.  _She_ is the jump scare in this dick flick. 

But it's dark. And cold. And she has to stay in there for _so long._ And her Snowflake Queen gown and her nice new pink acrylics are going to be total losses. 

By the time she claws her way out of the ground and tamps down the soil, she's wearing several scraps of ice-blue glitter tulle, her white cherry-print undies (now with an unfortunate mudslide down one ass cheek), and a tiara. 

She shakes herself, winces at the tender pull on her left tit, and hobbles toward Urban Outfitters to go headbutt a window. She needs something a little more hitchhiker chic. 

 

 

Five years later, she's doing a print modeling campaign on an ugly Jersey morning for the gently dying perfume beast that is Hollister when she sees Needy. 

At first she thinks the fumes are making her hallucinate all the way back to the year 2005, which isn't unreasonable; it's what happens every time she walks into a Hollister. 

But no. It's Lesnicki. With a big-ass Lion King scar across one eye, thick wads of Barbie hair falling over her shoulders, and smart bombs 75% deployed in an Ivy Park 'tard. Her mouth falls open when she sees Jennifer and she nearly drops her camera. 

"Where are your glasses?" Jennifer says at last, trying to sound bored. 

"Aren't you dead?" Needy says at the same time. 

Jennifer tilts her head and smiles, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger. "How was prison, bitch?" 

Needy lunges forward and hugs her. Jennifer keeps herself from unhinging her jaw by, like, milliseconds. "Do you have a death wish," she mumbles flatly into Needy's hair. It's all up in her Tarte now. The makeup artist is going to have to do the whole thing over. 

She inhales. Needy smells like Britney Spears Curious and saag paneer. 

Needy smells like . . .

Jennifer steps back. "Why don't you smell like food?" 

"Oh, it's my perfume," Needy says. "It's kind of dumb, but it's like my 'signature scent' now." She does air quotes. "I've committed." 

Jennifer stares at her. 

"Do you know Jennifer?" the PA asks Needy. 

"We used to be biffs," Jennifer and Needy say in unison. 

 

 

Jennifer keeps an eye on Needy the entire way to the bar. Needy plays on her phone in the Uber and pretends not to notice. Apparently the Skylark is a PokeStop. Needy already has an Eevee, so they walk straight to the bar. 

"Hey, Anita," the bartender says. "Vodka soda?" 

"Thanks, man," Needy says, giving the dudelet a smile Jennifer's never seen before. 

"Anything for you?" 

"Olives," Jennifer says. "Like a whole martini glass, but olives. Got it?" She glares at him. 

Needy laughs.

"Do you come here a lot," Jennifer says, frowning, as the bartender turns away. 

Needy turns toward her, heaving her probably-extensions over her shoulder. "I guess so. Do you live around here?" 

"Um, I live in LA," Jennifer says, rolling her eyes. "And sometimes Mexico City? And sometimes Moscow. Kill me before I ever wash up on Vermin Island." She looks around. "There aren't any men here, anyway." 

Needy laughs for some reason. "Vermin Island. Yeah. Not too many men, I guess." 

"So you're a photographer?" Jennifer says, feeling wrongfooted. 

Needy takes her vodka soda from the boy-shaped meat pinata and smiles that smile at him again. Like she knows what she's doing or something. She takes a sip, swallows, and says, "Yeah, I kind of got into it after high school. I did weddings. And funerals. Can I have one of those?" 

"One of what?" 

"Those." Needy points. 

A glass of olives has somehow appeared in front of Jennifer. She looks at it. Needy's hand glides into her field of vision, seizes an olive, and cruises back out. 

"How'd you get into modeling?" Needy says with her mouth full. 

Jennifer gives her a deadpan look. 

"Right," Needy says. "Okay. Stupid question. Are you feeling all right? Do you need to eat something?" 

"Maybe," Jennifer says, munching on an olive and staring straight at Needy's tits. Heart. Whatever. "I'm feeling kind of peckish." 

She looks up, slowly. Needy doesn't look scared. Jennifer doesn't understand. 

"Lesnicki," Jennifer snaps. "How'd you get that scar?" 

"Would you believe me if I said I killed a man in Reno?" Needy mumbles. "Or like, five men?"

"Mmkay," Jennifer says, picking up her bag and her glass of olives. "I'm not doing this with you. You should know better than to fuck with me, you fading little townie. I will make Prego out of you." 

"You can't take those out of here," the bartender puts in. "They're just for the, uh, bar area and supper lounge." 

Jennifer bares her teeth at him and he retreats behind a glass jar of whole limes. 

Needy has been calmly fishing in her purse. She digs out a bunch of Polaroids and hands them to Jennifer.

"What the fuck is this," Jennifer says. "Don't hand me shit. You can't just hand people your shit, Needy." 

"Look at it," Needy says. 

Jennifer accidentally looks at the photos. "Cool knife," she says automatically. "Wait a second." She shuffles through the photographs. "Oh, shit." She's startled into a laugh. After a minute, she looks up. "You just carry these around with you?"

"Shut up," Needy says, blushing. 

"Okay, Miss Gein," Jennifer says. "Should we check your freezer, too? No, it's NYC, you probably have room for like, two celeries in there. Was all this for me?" she adds, glancing at Needy through her eyelashes. 

"It wasn't not for you," Needy says, taking the Polaroids back. 

"What  _are_ you?" 

"I'm your ride-or-die, homeskillet," Needy says. 

"Ew." 

"Your bottom bitch," Needy adds, smirking. 

"Tell the Sonicare, short nails," Jennifer says. But not in, like, a mean way. "Do you want to . . . maybe . . . have some fun?" 

 

 

He has red stubble and gelled brown hair, and he lives in the kind of building where the doormen wear gloves. "How'd you get a place in midtown?" Needy had asked in the bar, and he'd answered, "I made a deal with the devil." So.

"You don't have any kids or anything, do you?" Needy asks now as they step into the living room with its wall-to-wall plate-glass windows. Jennifer rolls her eyes at her. 

"No, I'm a confirmed bachelor," Neil or whatever tells them. 

"That's not what that means," Needy murmurs. Ned ignores her. 

"You girls want something to drink? Whiskey?" 

"Can you make me a Shirley Temple?" Jennifer asks, flopping onto the black leather couch. 

"You mean a Dirty Shirley?" Nick asks. He winks. 

"Totally," Needy says. "She loves those. Dirty Shirleys."

"I bet you do. How about you, Marilyn?" 

"She loves pickle juice," Jennifer calls out before Needy can answer. "Just like straight-up pickle juice." 

"Why would you tell him that," Needy hisses, shoving her. She's laughing, a little buzzed. 

"That's weird," Nate says. 

"We grew up together," Jennifer tells him. "Since we were in diapers. I know everything about her. I know exactly what she likes." 

"You know, I don't know if you guys realize this," Nerf says, heading back to the living room, "but you both seem kind of gay." 

"That's the point, Nugget." She crawls across the couch toward him and takes the drink out of his hands, then leans back. He looks unimpressed by the crawling. She doesn't like that in a man. "Needy," she whines. "I'm hungry." 

"Me too," Needy says. She takes off her pants and folds them neatly in the corner. Then she steps out of the leotard and folds that too. She's not wearing anything underneath. 

"I like where this is going," Norman says. 

"You look like a fucking Real Doll," Jennifer says, sucking on her Shirley. "Did you win first prize in the Kettle Fair with those? Or is that just what NYC guys are into these days?"

Needy bats away Norbert's grabhands. "More NYC girls." 

"Look," Jennifer says, changing the subject. "Watch this." She gives her pink drink to Nelson. "Drink it." 

He looks at her, then at Needy's tits, confused. 

"If you drink the whoooole thing," Jennifer says slowly, "you can have dessert." 

He smiles and downs it, throwing his arms wide when he's done. Jennifer sticks her finger in his belly and unzips him. He screams, and Jennifer quickly finds his stomach and cups the blood fountaining there, holding it out to Needy. 

"Maraschinos," Needy says, chin drenched. 

Nesbitt burbles.

Jennifer smiles. 

 

 

The best part is after, when Needy fucks her against the plate-glass window, smearing blood across the NYC skyline. Their foreheads are pressed together and Jennifer's looking into Needy's eyes from two inches away, and every so often she tilts her jaw forward and drags her lips across Needy's. It's like she's been wearing earplugs and now she's taken them out. She can feel everything. She can smell everything. She can smell Needy. Not food. Sex and blood and Britney Spears Curious. 

She comes gasping around Needy's fingers, clawing her back. 

Needy licks her fingers clean and collapses on the shag rug. She turns her head. "Is that a Jenny Saville?"

"I don't give one single ish," Jennifer says, and buries her face between Needy's legs. She has to work to keep her fangs in check. Needy writhes. "I think my revenge went wrong," Jennifer says into her cunt. "I really wanted you to suffer, you know." 

"What?" Needy gasps. 

"Nothing," Jennifer mumbles, and sucks hard. Needy shrieks.

After, they drop six feet to the floor. "Ow," Jennifer says mildly. "That was some Willow and Tara shit." 

"Holy flip," Needy breathes. 

 

 

In the shower, watching the water turn the color of a Shirley Temple, Needy asks idly, "Do you think we're going to hell?" 

"I think we are hell," Jennifer answers happily. 


End file.
